Gemstones

Rough Trade; 2005

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Jonathan Richman never goes out of style. Adam Green, whose Moldy Peaches once seemed consigned to I Love the 00s oblivion alongside 2001 novelties like bipartisanship and Zero Wing, seems to have noticed. On Gemstones, Green ditches the string flourishes of 2003's Friends of Mine and dips into Richman's quirky-pop-classicist oeuvre as if it were the anti-folk fountain of youth. Make that a porcelain throne, as Green also scraps Richman's defining naïvete in favor of his own musical essences: toilet humor, pharmaceuticals, and hipster poses.

Green's self-consciously dweeby vocals hang his off-kilter lyrics like a doomed curveball. We're supposed to see how clever he is when he invokes celebrities' names or naughty images. Occasionally, he gets his giggles, usually with stream-of-consciousness imagery about "blank-faced footprints of the zebras in the glen" or non sequiturs like "her lips taste just like Sun Chips." Nearly as often, though, Green is just the average schmuck with cool friends who mistakenly thinks he's the life of the party. Politics aside, Bush-bashing "Choke on a Cock" is boring. "Carolina" exists for its rhyme with "vagina." Crackhouses and cock-biting prostitutes also rear their proverbial heads, titillating would-be indie kids (I just said "tit"). As far as I know, a clunker describing "the boy with the sterilized pitchfork" isn't about us.

Prolificacy can be a curse, and 15 roughly interchangeable songs all clocking in between 1 and 3 minutes doesn't help Green's cause. While his arrangements-- relying largely on acoustic guitar and organs -- mostly plunder Richman's simple aesthetic, Green's melodies plumb a deeper well, from Brian Wilson to Kurt Weill. In fact, occasionally Green forgets his loveable iconoclast persona and apes the best-known band to cover Weill's "Alabama Song", particularly during the "L.A. Woman"-tinged breakdown that closes "Over the Sunrise". Coming soon: a cover of Jim Morrison's "Lament for My Cock".

What about Green's health? Sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll are just all right with me, but the man can't let a song go by without mentioning mind-altering substances, from coffee and vodka tonics to Xanax, Zoloft, "drugstore dreams" and a man who writes prescriptions on Post-It notes. "Refill my prescription until next time," Green requests on another song, the aforementioned "Carolina" (vagina!). Given the right meds myself, I could tell you this theme constitutes a trenchant analysis of our pill-popping society as we hurtle toward a brave new dystopian tomorrow. But that's bullshit.

Green comes armed with paradoxical praise from Julian Casablancas: "He's eccentric and down to earth." So is Richman, still rock rock rockin' "Government Center". But Richman's cult fame lives on for a reason: He means it. With Green, that's never been clear.